There are people who get into the spirit of season by watching old Christmas movies. From ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ to ‘Elf’ to ‘Home Alone’ to many, too many more.

Hollywood continues to crank them out. Maybe it’s because people have more time to watch? Or maybe it’s because when one’s reality is tough, a bit of make believe is nice? Who knows??

What such movies do however is offer insight into how popular culture is interpreting Christmas. They mirror the values of the times.

Watching such movies hasn’t been my thing. But recently, trying to improve my fitness, and with the aid of headphones, I’ve watched several movies while on a bicycle at the gym. And, preferring British humour to American, I saw again the 2003 classic ‘Love Actually’.

Richard Curtis, the director, skilfully tells ten separate stories, lightly interlinking them together, creating a movie offering perspectives on love. ‘Love is all around’ is one of the opening lines. There is an unchallenged assumption throughout the movie that Christmas is about love, and telling people you love that you love them. Unlike the biblical Christmas which understands love is grounded in costly commitment and a vision of a common good, this movie reflects, by and large, the idea that love is romance.

By the standards of two decades ago, it is a fun movie with some laughs. And fun and laughter are a good antidote to Christmas stress, and maybe a doorway for deeper thought. For I do wonder whether Curtis was deliberately holding up a mirror to some of our conceptions of romantic love and asking ‘Is it love, actually?’

Some of the stories are blatant lampooning. Like Colin who equates love with sex, and goes overseas (to America) to find the latter. The Colin story trades in stereo-types, depicts American women like a Playboy magazine would have, and subtly using humour seems to offer a critique of this too common fantasy.

Respecting boundaries is a sub-theme throughout, and the appalling disrespect of such that some of the stories present. Probably the worst is the Juliet and Peter marriage, where best man Mark has a stalker-like obsession with Juliet. It is rather creepy to watch in a ‘family movie’ genre. As is the way Juliet responds to Mark, as if affirming his behaviour. Destructive it is, love it is not.

Another boundary scenario is that of Sarah, who in her desire to support her mentally ill brother, never switches her phone off and thus sabotages a would-be relationship. I wonder whether Curtis is foreseeing our love affair with phones, and thinking that constantly responding to them shows our commitment to others rather than our need to be wanted.

There are troubling features that hopefully wouldn’t make it beyond the cutting floor today. Like the ‘fat’ jokes. Like Mia the ‘femme fatale’ (as if the poor male, Harry, is just ‘naïve’). And like nobody thinking it’s inappropriate when a Prime Minister has a romantic relationship with the most junior member of his household staff. Couldn’t even a minor character have raised the question?

Other stories are more edifying though. Like the struggle of Jamie and Aurélia, who though not sharing a common spoken language, find each other’s presence conducive to both friendship and then romance. This scenario hints too at what’s ahead – namely culture is about far more than language, and loving someone across that divide takes commitment and tolerance.

I also think the story of the aging rockstar Billy Mack and his manager Joe, though distracted by the jokes around drugs, virility, and the like, is actually trying to take the word love and apply it not to a romance but to a long and loyal male-to-male friendship. I would hope nowadays the strength of same gender friendships, male or female, could feature more prominently and positively in a film on love.

My favourite story of the ten is that of Daniel and Sam, a father and stepson. Daniel’s wife and Sam’s mum has recently died. Sam though is not so much grieving as lovesick, for a girl at his school. Like all the stories in the movie there is comedy and fantasy here. But what I find impressive is Daniel the dad, who shelves his own needs, takes his son’s feelings seriously, and supports and champions Sam on his ‘fool’s quest.’ Daniel believes in him, and that collegial commitment inspires the boy.

Not all perspectives on love are created equal, and some things about love take a lifetime to learn. Sometimes love seems to have a mind of its own, and leaps all sorts of barriers. And sometimes the barriers win. Sometimes need masquerades as love, and sometimes the need matures into something worthy. And sometimes not. Sometimes the young understand love better than the old, and sometimes they don’t. And sometimes both young and old get it wrong, and often right.

Richard Curtis could have made a love movie that offered a single perspective, like just one of these stories. But he offered ten. Some pretty dubious. And he did it in the mode of humour; yet I suspect for a serious purpose. Namely to ask the critical question, ‘What is love, actually?’

The above image is a painting by Curtin Davidson that was used, with permission, in our Carol Service last week. Thanks Curt.